Afraid
by hetasherlockstuck
Summary: Sherlock and John show their insecurities and end up bringing themselves together ;)


Eternity  
A Johnlock fanfiction

John sat on the couch, reading a book. He looked up in the direction of Sherlock's bedroom. "Sherlock?" There was a muffled. "Not now John I'm busy…" he continued to stare at the screen of his roommates laptop. He'd taken if earlier to do work and just simply not given it back. John sighed. "I would like my laptop back, Sherlock." He was now standing outside Sherlock's door. "You didn't say please, John…" Sherlock mumbled whilst tapping away at the keys with his pale fingers. "No… but thank you for being polite…" his eyes where narrowed at the screen as his unique mind played around with different parts of evidence. John facepalmed. "May I at least come in?" "Why? I see no need for you to be in my room… I'm fine, your laptop is fine, well… it's a little slow if you ask me…" he sighs. "Why don't you go and have a chit chat with Mrs Hudson again?" He says now turning toward the opposite side of the door. He frowned and opened the door, getting a nice view of Sherlock's ass before covering his eyes. "God lord, Sherlock, put some damn pants on!" "It's your own fault John, I did say not to come in…" he huffs turning pink embarrassed. He curls up like a cocoon in his blankets and turns facing away. "Take your laptop back I'm done with it now…" he said in a childish strop. He uncovered his eyes, looking at Sherlock's messy mass of curly hair and how he was cocooned in blankets, thinking he looked adorable. "T-thank you, Sherlock." He took his laptop and scurried out of the room quickly and sat on the couch, processing what just happened. Sherlock peered over to make sure he was gone before standing and pulling a pair of matching pyjamas on. "Humph…" he sat back down curling himself within the crisp white blankets. His eyes flickered to the closed window revealing the evening view of London. John sat there for awhile, working on his laptop and then stood, stretching and scratching the underside of his belly before walking over to Sherlock's door. "Goodnight, Sherlock." His eyes flickered toward the familiar voice. He let out a small huff and just ignored the urge to reply. He looked down and said a very quiet "I love you" only he himself could hear and walked to his room, putting on his flannel pajamas and getting into bed, looking out the window sadly from his bed. Sherlock muttered to himself and brung his knees toward his chin hugging them like a unhappy boy, he had never really experienced the change between boy to man and was permanently stuck halfway. Serious situations caused for serious thinking and attitude. But if someone upset him, though he barely reacts it can occasionally hit hard. And on extremely rare occasions he's wished to be normal… with that thought in his mind he began to fall asleep in a saddened daze.  
~oOo~  
The next morning John got up early and started to cook breakfast, making what Sherlock liked even though he hardly ate. He slowly stood and stumbled his way toward the main room, his night had been less then bearable with the constant waking of bad dreams, he insisted he never had dreams. But these weren't dreams anyway, repetitive nightmares where zooming through his head all night long causing him to be quieter then usual. He looked over at Sherlock and smiled at him sweetly. Sherlock felt a vibe of comfort whizz through him. He coughed slightly and just walked toward the fireplace picking up his violin. "Well good morning to you too, sunshine." He mumbled sarcastically and put their breakfasts on plates. "Sherlock, it is breakfast time." "…it's violin time John" he said shooting him a stern yet worried look. He frowned and went back into the kitchen, eating his breakfast by himself sadly. "..." Sherlock's dainty fingers where shaking against the bow. He'd never dreamt! Never had a nightmare, he didn't think there was room in his brain to store any… and the strange thing is. They'd scared him, he'd stood outside John's room from three in the morning to four hoping he'd suddenly open it and let him in… but no. He decided to stop playing in case his shaky music made it obvious something was wrong. "Sherlock, would you like to come eat...?" John said from the kitchen. He didn't reply but was in the kitchen several minutes later. He slowly sat himself at the table not making eye contact with John, it wasn't anything John had done although that's how it had seemed. "Are you alright, Sherlock?" He said, his eyes wide with concern for his friend, the one he loved secretly. Sherlock swallows. "Perfectly fine, I just realised I have somewhere to be…" he stood placing his still slightly shaky hands behind his back. "Sincerest apologies John I'll be back later…" and with that he rushed toward their door. "Wait..." He stood and began walking after him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Don't go." Sherlock jumped slightly at the sudden contact. He bit down on his tongue and gulped standing there frozen by the others touch. "…I have work John" he said quietly. "Oh..." He looked down. "I can't come with you...?" He ran his fingers through his unbrushed brown curls. "No, not for this I'm afraid" he said drifting slightly at the end of his sentence. He stepped away from the others grasp and pulled his coat on leaving without a goodbye. Something was clearly wrong now, he enjoyed John coming to work because he was the only person Sherlock spoke too… but Sherlock wasn't going to work. John believe Sherlock hated him now for a reason he didn't know. "Am I ugly? Am I a terrible friend...?" John said to himself and started to tear up, believing his own words. By the time Sherlock returned it was ten at night and he had been gone since midday. He wondered in looking paler then usual. He placed his coat upon the peg and slid off his shoes. Not seeing John anywhere he placed himself in his favourite armchair and let his head droop in to his cold hands. John sat on his bed, he had been crying most of the day and his eyes were red and puffy. He had not eaten since breakfast and was hungry, but not at the same time. Sherlock had no idea that John had been in that state. He assumed he was sleeping and didn't want to wake him. The only noticeable sign that Sherlock was back was his violin playing, usually John sleeps through it so he wasn't worried. However shaky it sounded Sherlock still managed to make a smooth comforting tune. Only when he heard John shuffle on his bed did he realise, his ears where delicate enough to recognise when someone was moving. He slowed his playing till it stopped. "John?…" Sherlock says quietly placing the violin back on its stand. John sobbed into his knees quietly. He only wished to be loved back by the one he loved so dearly. Sherlock heard a muffled sob and his heart slammed against his chest with worry. Had someone broken in while he was gone? Was John hurt? He hurriedly walked to the other side of the room and knocked on the door. "John… are you crying?" He sniffled and looked at the door. "No..." He said, blatantly lying. He sighed. "You know I hate it when you lie to me yet you do it anyway…" he shook his head and gently pushed down on the handle entering the room. "…You look a state" he mutters frowning. He looked up at him, his face fallen and his eyes red and teary. He stared at Sherlock for a couple seconds and then burst into tears again. The taller man jumped at the sudden noise and placed himself on the bed shuffling over and pulling John toward him. He draped his arms round the others waist and let his head flop on to his shoulder Sherlock inhaled John's comforting smell and started to go red with tears himself. John looked up at him and sniffled, confused. "What are you doing...?" "You're upset… this is what people do when someone they care about are upset, correct?" He asked swallowing his own tears quietly. "Care...?" He looked at him and sniffles once more. "You do...?" "Why yes, don't be stupid John it's obvious… you do realise you're the only person I speak to don't you? You're not very observant…" he said shaking his head and looking out the window. He frowned. "S-sherlock..." he said quietly. "What is the matter with you lately? What's got you so upset?" His eyes flickered back to John and he swallowed rubbing his neck unsurely. "I uh…"  
He pauses not entirely sure how it'd sound. "I had some nightmares" his shoulders raise at the fact he admitted it. His face visibly tenses and he shakes again. "What were they about that made you so shaken?" "…" he pauses and looks down quietly. "Dying, and bullying…" he looks up going red again before pulling himself to his feet. "Where did I leave my violin…" "Sherlock... please don't go..." He looked at him with large, pleading eyes. Sherlock turns to look at him. "…What's wrong John?" He asks putting his hands in his pockets. "You where crying… which is triggered by an emotion of sadness usually… so what happened?" "Do you hate me Sherlock...?" "Excuse me?" He blinks shocked. "Never, why ever would you think that?" He asks rocking on his heels. "You went to work without me today..." He looked down. "I wasn't at work, John" he says looking at him with a serious expression. "Where were you?" John stood up and wrapped his arms around Sherlock, burying his face into his chest. "Don't leave me... Don't leave me..." Sherlock suddenly let several tears creep from his deep eyes. "…You've got to much emotion" he said jokingly whilst resting his chin on the top of John's head. He smiled a bit. "There's my Sherlock." "Your Sherlock?" He asks tilting John's chin up to look at him, a confused look pasted on his usually expressionless face. He blushed darkly. "Uh, I mean-" "Yes?" He questions prying for the answer, utterly confused by the sudden blushing. "Sherlock... have you ever... had feelings for someone?" "Hm… well yes, I suppose so… why ever do you ask?" His eyebrow raises as he asks. "Could you tell me who?" "I'd rather not…" he turns to look at the window again and swallows. "Please?" He asked politely. "It's someone you know well…" he says turning red again. "Hm... who might that be?" He suddenly feels shy and tries to cover up "Irene Adler…" he leaves the room, John could tell something about the way he said that was wrong. "Oh, right." John looked down and away, trying to hold back his tears. Sherlock groaned and looks down leaning on the wall in the kitchen. "Oh John… if only you knew…" He sniffled and collapsed onto the floor. "I was so stupid to think he would love me..." He heard a thud and peered round. "John?!" He sounded worried and knelt down next to him. He sobbed into his hands, ignoring Sherlock's presence. He moved John's hands. "What's wrong John, tell me? Stop covering it…" He sniffled and looked away. "It's nothing, Sherlock..." "John" he said bluntly. "How incredibly childish for you to keep it from me…" he says hoping that'll make him talk. Unfortunately that only made him feel worse and sniffled again. "Good grief… you don't stop do you?" He wraps his arms round him again. He sniffled and looked up at him. "Why are you doing this?" He was so confused. "…because I believe I have fond feelings toward you," he says, looking around the room. "Hm… you didn't polish like you promised." "I forgot..." He looked down. "What do you mean by "fond feelings"?" "The same feelings you had for that girl, what was her name? Lilly? Or was it Sophie…" he mutters confused. "Does that mean...-" He blushed darkly, but he wanted to hear Sherlock say it. "Please explain." "What's the emotion called…" he said standing again and walking to the window, he had some sort of fascination with it lately. "I've never felt many human emotions, all I know is this one is hard to find- love…" he nods rubbing his hands together. "I believe that's what it was please correct me if I'm wrong, which I'm surely not, I'm never wrong…" he smirked slightly and turned back to the shocked John. John was blushing dark red and only managed to muster a few words. "Y-yes you are c-correct." "Look at you, so easily flustered… how cute" he chuckles and leans against the wall. He blushed darker. "C-cute...?" "Indeed…" he smiles and walks over pulling John to his feet. "You're still all teary, go clean yourself up…" he ruffles John's hair and wonders out as if nothing had changed. John blushed and quickly made his way to the bathroom and cleaned himself up, coming out looking better. He just wanted Sherlock to hold him... "So how was your day hm?" He asks sipping his coffee and handing one to John. "I was lonely," he admitted. "without you." Sherlock had been blowing at the steam and stopped mid blow. "Lonely…?" He placed the cup down on the coffee table and walks over again. "When you left." He said. "I was lonely when you went on your walk..." Sherlock let off a small smile and pulls John in to him, he cradles the other rocking him gently. "Well I'm back now aren't I? So how are you now?" "Very very happy~" He chirped. "Hm…" he takes John's mug and places it down beside his own before pulling John to the sofa, he sits him down on his lap and lets him curl up like a child. Sherlock holds John quietly whilst thinking. John curled up in his lap and nuzzles his chest. He smiles and reads a book whilst holding him. He smiles and reads a book whilst holding him. He whines. "Sherlock..." "Why yes John?" He asks looking at him. "Pay attention to me... Don't just sit there and read." He nuzzled his chest. Sherlock raises an eyebrow. "My apologies…" he placed the book down and tilted John's chin. John kissed Sherlock's cheek shyly and blushed. Sherlock turned slightly pink. "Thank you" he smiled, he didn't want to kiss him here because he wanted to save it for somewhere special. John was mostly just too scared to kiss him for real yet so he just snuggled him. Sherlocks eyes began to droop. "…It's a stupid idea for me too fall asleep here…" he mumbles. "However I don't want to let go of you…" he chuckles as he finds a solution. Slowly and carefully he picks John up revealing himself to be stronger then anticipated. He mutters quietly as he slowly moves toward his own room. John clung to him, not wanting to be dropped. He laid John down. "Hm… now I ask one thing if you're to stay in my room…" he says standing straight and shoving his hands in his pajama pockets. "What is it?" "Don't touch anything I don't give you permission too…" Sherlock looks at him as he says this. He's always been protective of his belongings… "Oh and I've told everyone to 'piss off' as they say these days so that we have peace tomorrow…" he says wondering in to the bathroom to brush his teeth. John looked around the room and couldn't help but put on Sherlock's pajamas while Sherlock wasn't looking. As the tired man walked back out with his fingers through his hair. He stops and raises an eyebrow looking at the other, "That looks positively ridiculous…" he pauses and lets off a small smile. "In a very adorable fashion…" he walks over and picks up the baggy sleeves. "My arms or that much longer then yours… a whole seventeen centimetres and three millimetres… although those pyjamas are big on me anyway which is why the sleeves are longer then that by six centimetres and eight millimetres" he stretches as if the extraordinary math his just did in such little time wasn't astounding. He looked up at him and smiled then stood up on the bed and hugged him, burying his face in the sea of brown curls. Sherlock smiles and holds him up spinning him round before placing him back down on the bed. "Come on, I need to try and get decent sleep…" he lays down under the covers and yawns tiredly. As John goes to turn the light off Sherlock grabs his wrist. "No! Don't!… Uhm…" he looks down. "It'd be greatly appreciated if that stayed on tonight…" "Sherlock, it's okay." He stroked his hair. "I'll be here with you." "Please, John…" he said seeming like a child again. "Just… leave it on, it's my bill to pay not yours…" his teeth grind together as he held back begging for it to be left on. "Sh... it'll be okay." He turned the light and plugged in a small nightlight that used to he his own when he was young. Sherlock brought his knees to his chest and stayed sat up. "John, John I don't like it…" ever since Moriarty had messed with his head sleeping in the dark was something he found hard although he denied it, he got chills down his spine and buried his head in his hands gripping his hair. John wrapped his arms around him. "Sh, it's okay, Sherlock." "I know!" He snaps not wanting to seem like a baby. He shuffles under the covers letting John hold him. "…I hate Moriarty…" "Well I don't like him either. The way he hurts you is cruel." Sherlock opens his eyes and looks at John. "Mh… it's all just one big game and I seem to be chasing round in circles…" John rubbed his back soothingly. Sherlock curls up in a thin ball and cocoons with John in the blankets, slowly he begins to drift too sleep.


End file.
